


Can't Keep My Hands To Myself

by fighteveryoneforever



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Teasing, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12365076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fighteveryoneforever/pseuds/fighteveryoneforever
Summary: Neville loves Mustafa's ring gear.





	Can't Keep My Hands To Myself

Neville loves Mustafa's ring gear, he loves it.

Before they started dating he couldn't keep his eyes off him, appreciating how it made his thighs look, how tight it was around his ass and spent sleepless nights trying to imagine the skin hidden under the fabric.

Mustafa thought it was torture. He'd be talking to someone, then when the conversation ended he'd turn around and catch Neville staring where his ass just was, licking his lips. The King wouldn't even blush, he'd just smirk at him and leave the room, leaving Mustafa to deal with the growing erection in his tights.

Now that they're dating it's even worse, because Neville has no reason to keep his eyes _and_ his hands off Mustafa.

It's tuesday afternoon, there are still a few hours until the Smackdown filming starts, and Mustafa is already in his gear. He tries to convince himself that he put in on in case of any pre-match interviews, and not to mess with Neville, but he can't lie to himself.

He has a match with Drew Gulak tonight, the last match of the night. He's not worried about it, Gulak lost to him the last three times they wrestled. Today's gonna be a good day, Mustafa smiles.

He's sitting in the locker room, lacing up his boots, when he feels a hand on his chin, he lifts his head to see a curtain of curly hair and a grin going from ear to ear.  
Mustafa looks around and notices him and Neville are the only people in the locker room. Neville's still in street clothes, a red checkered shirt and black sweatpants, he has his hair in a ponytail.

It would look ridiculus on anyone else but Mustafa thinks he looks delicious.  
They kiss, softly, for a few minutes, Neville runs his hands up and down his arms, while Mustafa grabs his hips as an anchor.

Mustafa stops to ask “Do you a have a match tonight?” and Neville starts nuzzling neck. 

He can see his smile widen, “No, but I think I know a way to keep myself busy.”

They can hear voices getting louder and know the fun has to stop, but that doesn't stop Mustafa from letting out a whine when Neville gives him one last kiss then turns towards the door. 

Mustafa only starts to think about the implications of what Neville said when he notices his boyfriend being a little more handsy than usual. 

When looking for his kneepads, Neville moves him out the way by grabbing him by the hips, and quickly slips his fingers down his waistband. The skin on skin contact makes Mustafa's breath hitch.

And again, when Mustafa is talking to Lince, Neville approaches and puts an arm around his waist, the sweetness makes Mustafa's heart swell. The feeling stops when he feels Neville's hand start to move, then suddently feels him grabbing a handful of his ass. He yelps and Neville leaves the room cackling, Mustafa tries to continue the conversation but he can see Lince's grin thu his mask.

Trying to calm himself, Mustafa sits down to watch Smackdown. It works for a while, and he feels his heart rate go back to normal, until he hears the door open and familiar sound of footsteps.

They're not alone, which is a good thing, Mustafa hopes that the fact that they're in public will keep Neville's touch work appropriate. 

There is a little voice in Mustafa's brain, thought, that hopes Neville won't care and will pull down his tights and blow him in front of everyone. But he shoos that thought away as quickly as Neville sits down besides him. 

It's time for the main event, and Mustafa keeps his eyes glued to the screen.  
The King sees this as a challenge, and puts a hand - his huge, warm hand, Mustafa thinks – on his knee.

Mustafa jumps in his seat, but keeps staring straight ahead, so Neville grins and starts to move his hand up his leg. Slowly, inch by inch, Mustafa feels as if the teasing goes of forever, until Neville's hand reaches the juncture of his thigh, and Mustafa snaps his head at him, only to be see him grinning. 

Mustafa doesn't know if he should tell him to stop, in fear of getting caught, or to beg him to touch where he really needs it, care thrown out the window. Thankfully this time Neville doesnt get up and leave, but moves his hand from the top of his leg to his inner thigh.

As happy as Mustafa is to finally be touched, he can't stop thinking that and if someone were to see what they were doing they would be caught, and Neville would leave as he's done all day.

Neville seems to read his thoughts because somehow his grin widens. Mustafa looks around and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that everyone except for them is still staring at either the tv or their phones. As he's distracted, Neville decides to get his attention back by running a finger on the seam of his pants, and Mustafa lets out a breathy moan before he can stop himself.

Mustafa has always been very vocal during sex, he liked telling his lovers how good he felt and Neville told him multiple times how hot it was, but now he was cursing himself. He grabs a handful of Neville's shirt, putting his head on his shoulder and whispering as quiet as possible, “Please”. 

Neville cups his cheek and kisses him, releases his shirt from where Mustafa was still gripping it, holds his hand to his mouth, kissed it as if Mustafa was royalty and leaves.

Mustafa feels as if he could cry, but doesn't. He just looks down to check if he's left a noticeable wet spot on his pants and thinks about how to leave the room without everyone noticing his erection.

He somehow makes it to locker room, where he gets a eyeful of himself in the mirror. God, he looks wrecked. His pupils are huge, his hair is sticking out in all kinds of directions, his pants, which are what got him in this mess in the first place, are now tighter than ever. He just adjusts himself, using all the will power in the world to not jerk off right then and there.

Mustafa spends half an hour in the locker room, trying to keep himself busy, thinking about strategy that will make him win against Drew while at the same time keeping him as far from his crotch as possible. He's sure that if Gulak knew what Neville had been doing to him all day he'd add a slide to his power point presentation about “unappriopriate workplace behavior”. He looks at the clock on the wall and sees there are still five minutes until his match.  
He hears the door open and turns around to see Neville, smiling innocently. Not sure if he's here to have a quickie or to mess with him more. He leaves the door open so Mustafa thinks a quickie is out of the question.  
Neville is walking around him, like a lion toying with its prey, not touching him, and Mustafa realizes that not being touched is way worse that being teased all day.

He wants to beg him, but for the first time the words don't come out of his mouth. He knows Neville loves him, he said it a million times, yet he still fears of being rejected.

He feels hot breath on his neck and knows Neville sees the shiver going down his spine. Neville's hands are on his waist, like they have been multiple times today, and the King is leaving small kisses on the back of his neck. He kisses behind his ear and pushes him towards the door, but Mustafa is so aroused he doesn't even notice his feet are moving.

“Win, my prince, and you'll get fuck the King.” the hands on Mustafa's waist move down to palm his dick thru the thin layers of fabric. Mustafa doesn't even try to stop the guttural moan that escapes him. Those same hands then push him out the locker room door and into the hallway.

Getting to fuck the King isn't really a special occasion, but after a whole day of Neville torturing him it'd be nice to get revenge. Taking his time fingering him, fucking him slowly, making him feel every inch, waiting to hear him beg. 

Mustafa hears his name thru the speakers and makes his way to gorilla, hoping that Drew Gulak will be too blinded with hate to notice his rock hard erection.

* * *

Mustafa Ali has never lost a match on purpose. And that's not what happened tonight either. He was distracted by Neville's advances and too preoccupied with not making his opponent notice his hard on. And if he could have grabbed the bottom rope when Drew put him under the dragonsleeper, well, he just didn't see that, so he _had_ to tap out.

If Mustafa wasn't so... distraught he'd be thinking about a way to get revenge on Neville for keeping him on the edge all day, instead he's thinking about all the ways he's gonna beg Neville to let him come.

God, he's so horny he's getting dizzy. He stops and rests his head against a wall to clear his thoughts. He has his eyes closed but he hears quick footsteps and then a gravelly, accented voice say “Are you all right, prince?”. Mustafa nods vigorously, and feels an arm grab his midriff, so he rests his arm in Neville's shoulders as they walk towards the locker room, where the teasing started, **five** hours ago. Mustafa's sure that a stiff breeze would make him come in his pants.

They get to the locker room and Neville starts rumaging thru his bag, pulling out a bottle of lube. Mustafa's sitting down on a bench, his head stopped spinning but now his heart is racing with excitement.

“Did you lock the door?” he whispers before kissing Neville, who pulls away. After a day of chasing him, of being teased then abandoned, Mustafa whines and grabs him by the shoulders, too horny to care about seeming needy. Neville kisses him on the corner his mouth and says “Don't worry, love, i'll be right back.”

It takes him less than a minute but for Mustafa it feels like ten, so when Neville comes back Mustafa wraps his hands around him and starts nuzzling his neck. Neville laughs, not mockingly, just fond, and says “I'll take care of you, now”. He grabs the hem of his shirt and takes it off, planting a kiss on each pectoral and running his thumbs on his ribs. Mustafa runs his hands thru his hair, freeing them of his hair tie. 

Neville doesnt take his mouth off him as he says “You have no idea how i've been feeling,” 

Mustafa lets out a shaky laugh “Actually I might have a clue”.

He can feel Neville grin against his skin and start sucking out a hickey on his left peck, then kissing it, then making an identical one on the right. 

Mustafa doesn't even realize he started talking, until Neville gets on his knees and starts kissing a trail down his stomach and then he hears his pleas get louder. Most of them aren't coherent sentences, just a litany of please, oh, Nev, fuck, just touch me. 

Neville pulls down his tights and as Mustafa gets up to get them off, he takes a second to take a look at himself, still wearing boxers. 

Oh, god, they're ruined. Wet with precum, a tale of all the hours he spent being aroused. 

Neville pulls those off too, then licks the head of his dick, but Mustafa shouts stop and Neville pulls away, with worry in his eyes. Before he starts talking, Mustafa says “Don't. I'll come” and by the look in his eyes he knows Neville would like to continue and say that's the point, but for the first time today the King takes mercy on him. Mustafa gets turned around and pushed down a little, his knees on the bench, his chest on the lockers and his ass sticking out.

There is a second where the only noises in the room are the opening of a bottle and the wet noise of Neville rubbing lube on his fingers and the Mustafa feels what he's been begging for for hours, the tip of a finger against his hole. 

“I was, ah, shocked to see you lose. Shocked and, mhm, a little happy.” Neville says, never one to stay quiet, not even during sex. Mustafa easily takes his middle finger so Neville starts insterting his index, touching the other man's prostate once, accidantally. Mustafa lets out a sob, and Neville is kind enough to try and to avoid touching it again. Mustafa looks down at his dick, precum collecing at the tip, feeling the need to touch himself, but he holds off, knowing that feeling Neville inside him will feel a hundred times better than a quick, sloppy handjob.

Neville, now up to three fingers, starts to open them and bending them to hit his prostate, making Mustafa shout “Oh, Neville, Nev, please, please fuck me”. His King, a benevolent one when needed, does as he wishes and Mustafa is turned around again, now facing Neville, who lifts him and starts to push in. As he's half way inside, Mustafa wraps his legs around Neville's waist and pushing down, making him shout a breathy “Oh FUCK, Mustafa”.  
Pleased to see the man loose his cool, Mustafa starts to fuck himself on his dick, closing his eyes to concentrate on the feeling, and starting to blurt out a prayer consisting of “please, please, harder, yes, Neville, please”.

Neville grabs his hips, so hard that he knows tomorrow he will see bruises and starts to fuck him, hard, fast, short thrusts that hit Mustafa's core again and again. Every inch of Mustafa's body feels pleasure, this is the best sex he's ever had, and all those hours of torture were well worth it.

“Ah, I know you lost on purpose, Mustafa” Neville starts biting his neck.  
Mustafa has no reason to deny that, it would be stupid to lie to him when it was obvious.

“You, ah, love getting fu-uh-cked by your King.” snapping his hips to punctuate every word.

Mustafa moans, in agreement and in pleasure, “YES! King! Please!”

Neville wraps a hand around his dick and Mustafa's gone, coming so hard that he sees stars and feels his cum hit his collarbones. Neville doesn't stop, bends Mustafa so that his knees touch his shoulders and fucks him thru the aftershocks. Growling like a caged animal, he lasts a few more thrusts and then comes, biting Mustafa's shoulder.

They sit there, Mustafa laying on the bench and Neville sitting on the floor laying his head on the side of his ribs, holding each other, for what feels like hours, until both their breaths have gone back to normal and they can start getting dressed for part two, at the hotel.

They make a few relaxed jokes and get ready to leave holding hands, opening the door to see Drew Gulak, eyes wide open, face red and a open hand up as if he was laying against the door. Neville is grinning, and Mustafa blushes slightly. He can see Drew's eyes look at the hickeys on his neck and the red bite mark on his shoulder.

Drew stumbles backwards and mutters out “I- I- I- I won, A-Ali” 

Neville pushes Gulak out the way, Mustafa turn his head, grinning, lifting the hand that is holding Neville's saying “We're all winners!”

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language so if I misused a phrase please let me know!


End file.
